


Lucky You

by AeschylusRex



Series: Heart of Gold [2]
Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, Family Issues, Heart of Gold series: Part 2, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, big sisters are the bomb, sequel to Pull Yourself Together, weiss isn't as schneeky as she thinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-06 08:17:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10330217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AeschylusRex/pseuds/AeschylusRex
Summary: Jacques Schnee asks Winter to investigate why Weiss has been acting so strangely.





	

**Author's Note:**

> 3.16.17  
> Hello again!  
> I got a lot of requests from folks asking me to write some more stories for the Pull Yourself Together universe, so I decided to oblige! Yay, teamwork, camaraderie, good guys, go team, alright, good job!  
> ~Enjoy!
> 
> The song inspiration for this fic was "Lucky You" by my favorite band ever, The National. Check it out!  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a3_j0bp1y9I

i.

Your father’s tea cup rattles against the white, porcelain saucer as he sets it down. His large hands have been less and less steady as his age advances, though everyone pretends not to notice. His stern face is thinner through the cheeks, hollowed somewhat in appearance. His expensive suit is neatly pressed, as always, but the tailoring is too loose. The shoulders aren’t quite filled out. The chest is a bit baggy. He’s begun to lose muscle mass, and, for reasons unknown to you, has refused to commission a new, more fitted set of suits.

“So, Winter,” a grim smile quirks under his neat, ivory mustache, “you seem to be in good health. Ironwood speaks highly of your accomplishments.”

Your immediate response is only a stiff nod before you remember you are no longer in the company of soldiers. “Yes, thank you.”

His fingernails tap against the unblemished white tablecloth. A three-tiered platter of delicate pastries, berries, and finger sandwiches rests off to one side between you, almost entirely untouched. You’ve allowed yourself a lemon-custard tart the size of a silver Lien coin and handful of raspberries. Your father has consumed two of the delicate cucumber sandwiches, and one of the smoked salmon crostinis.

“I imagine you’ll be up for promotion soon?”

He doesn’t imagine anything. He’s been in direct contact with Ironwood for years.

Your lips twitch. “I’ve decided to remain a specialist for the time being. I’ve made my preferences clear to my superiors.”

His eyes darken with confusion and annoyance. “But why? When you are clearly the best in your class? This seems an illogical decision on your part.”

Your answering smile is tight, and sharp in the corners. He’s never understood anything but raw ambition, though he’s learned the hard way not to interfere with your career. As you’ve already abdicated the SDC throne, he has nothing to gain by tarnishing your reputation. Smearing the honorable Schnee name is not in the best interests of the company. Your glory is his glory, and the higher your rank, the more visibility you bring to the family as a whole. Even now, you’re a pawn for him to play with.

“I enjoy my work,” you respond, primly, and watch as he squirms in his seat, a plush, leather-backed affair to match the elegance of the high-ceilinged cafe around you. “I’m still young, and not particularly interested in dealing with Atlesian politics at this point in my life, though I might, someday, have a change of heart.”

“No doubt when I am already an old man,” he mutters acerbically, and you smirk.

His meaning is clear enough. He’ll be too old to reap the benefits of your accomplishments.

You bite into a strawberry and dab at your mouth with your napkin. Faint, pink blotches stain the stiff fabric as you draw it away, folding it neatly again in your lap.

He changes the subject. “Have you heard from your sister?”

“Not since her injury.”

“That was over a month ago.” He grips the handle of his tea cup, raising it slowly to his lips. “Nothing recently?”

You select another strawberry from the plate, the picture of nonchalance. “No, why do you ask?”

He sips cautiously, blue eyes narrowed. “She’s been avoiding my calls and messages.”

“I see.” You bite off the tip of the fruit and savor it slowly. “Is this a surprise to you?”

His mustache twitches. “She hasn’t responded to any of your mother’s attempts, either.”

“I repeat my previous question.”

His calm veneer slips for half a second, long enough for a flash of unbridled irritation to pinch his brows, before his expression smooths again, reverting to its former cool impassivity. “How long is your shore leave?”

You dab at your mouth with the stained napkin. “Two weeks.”

“Ah. Then you have plenty of time to do me a favor.”

“That depends on the favor.”

His teacup clinks against the saucer, and he laces his fingers together. “I merely request that you check up on Weiss. I know she’s here in the city.”

“And how do you know that?”

He pointedly ignores the question. “Do this for me. It isn’t much to ask.”

You meet his level stare with one of your own. “Even if I were willing, she hasn’t responded to my messages either.”

A tiny smile plays on his lips, belied by the sharpness of his eyes. “I’ll gladly provide you the address to her flat if you need it.”

“It seems fairly obvious to me she’d rather be left alone.”

“For what possible reason?”

You straighten the tips of your black, tactical gloves. “I don’t know, but I can take a hint. I’m certain she’ll call when she’s ready.”

Your father exhales sharply and glances off to one side, eyes narrowing on some faraway point. His lips are pursed, brows furrowed, like he’s thinking hard about something. You wait patiently while you sip from a glass of ice water.

At last, he sighs and straightens up. “I am…” He clears his throat. “I’m worried for her health.”

You arch a brow. “Are you really?”

“Yes.”

“Then, why not stop by yourself?”

He steeples his finger slowly. “It is as you said. She clearly wishes to be left alone. However, last I saw her, she was covered in severe bruises, had several fractured ribs, and was wearing an eyepatch over her right eye.”

“I’ve seen the pictures, yes.”

His blue eyes flick to you. “Think what will of my intentions, but I do not wish to see my children suffer needlessly. Word has reached me that she’s been refusing her maids and I am concerned. I would go to her myself, except that I’m certain she’ll be more receptive to a visit from you than from either your mother or I.”

You study him coldly for a moment. “You acknowledge that this is the case, yet you still won’t acknowledge why.”

His jaw works steadily, but his mask of calm remains firmly in place. “Will you do this for me?”

“...Fine.”

“Good.” He turns back to the three-tiered plate of treats. “Thank you.”

“But father,” he pauses to look at you, fingers freezing mid-motion over an almond tart, “if you want the details, you’ll have to ask her yourself. I won’t to play messenger.”

“Very well.” He selects the tart and moves it to his plate, wiping his hand briskly on the napkin in his lap. “Your terms are reasonable.”

“Schnees are always reasonable,” you reply, crisply, and watch as his shoulders stiffen.

“Yes,” he says, eyes fixed on his plate, “they are.”

 

 

ii.

From the very start, you were nothing alike.

Weiss was technically your rival, but only technically. Your mother wove silver snowflakes into her hair for parties and trotted her out like a pale-eyed doll in lacy blue dresses. Your father doted on her in his own aloof way, offering her peppermint candies from his desk, and teaching her how to dance in the ballroom. Her stature never filled out like yours. Her voice never deepened the way yours did. Her icy blue eyes remained large and round, while yours narrowed and grew stormy like the cold north sea. The weight of a corporate empire rested on your shoulders, and your body grew tall and broad to support it, but Weiss remained small, retaining the appearance of utter delicacy, a tiny, icy princess kept in a crystal cage and trotted out for guests. Her function, in stark contrast to yours, was purely ornamental, and though she practiced her blade work in the gym with your father’s old rapiers, she was hardly taken seriously.

That all changed the moment you left to join the military.

“Good evening, Ms. Schnee.” Klein greets you at the door to your flat, a functional, moderately sized living space with spartan furnishings and a barren refrigerator.

You haven’t been home in months.

“Good evening.” You eye him steadily before offering the hint of a smile. “You look well.”

Dressed smartly in a black, wool overcoat and pressed slacks, Klein returns your smile warmly. “Thank you, Ms. Schnee. You’re looking quite well yourself.”

You step into the hallway, tugging the door shut behind you, and the automatic lock resets itself. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be available.” You straighten the collar of your long, white peacoat. “I understand you work for my sister these days.”

Klein’s auburn mustache twitches. “Indeed. She has me on retainer, of course, but I was informed she wouldn’t be needing my services until after she returned from her trip.”

“Oh?” You quirk a brow. “And what trip would that be?”

He frowns lightly. “I’m not sure. She didn’t give me any specifics, although she did say it was for pleasure rather than work. I was a bit worried after her latest round of injuries, as I’m sure you can imagine.” He gestures in the direction of the elevators with the sweep of his arm. “After you, Ms. Schnee.”

Turning sharply on your heel, you set off down the hall at your usual brisk pace, only to perform a subtle double take when he falls in step alongside you. It throws you for a moment, until you recall Weiss mentioning that she forbade him to trail behind her like the servants at your parents’ manor. You remind yourself to commend her for doing away with that archaic practice.

Klein presses the button once you reach the elevator, and you wait together side by side in silence until the car arrives.

“Would it surprise you to learn my sister is here in the city?” you ask, carefully. A small, plastic diamond illuminates in the wall overhead and the steel doors roll open with a creak.

Klein turns to you with wide, curious eyes. “Yes, it would.” He holds out his hand and you step into the car, turning to press your back to the wall as he follows you in. “Are you sure she’s home?”

“Fairly, yes.”

“For how long?”

“Long enough for my father to notice.”

Klein hits the button for the ground floor and the doors close. “I see. Well, I-“ he clears his throat, eyes shifting colors for just a second before blinking back to their usual, translucent blue. “She didn’t notify me. I had no idea.”

You nod silently and square your shoulders, eyes fixed straight ahead on polished steel. It doesn’t surprise you Weiss has been turning away her maids, but Klein is a different matter altogether. Something strange is going on.

“My father has many spies,” you say, after a pause. “He likes to keep a close eye on us. He must have one of the maids on his payroll.”

“Hm.” Klein’s eyes narrow. “Seems rather nosy of him.”

You resist the impulse to smile. Subtle or not, his loyalties have always been clear.

He leads you out to the town car in comfortable silence, idling at the curb under the watchful eye of the young valet. Klein tips the uniformed girl at the stand and hurries over the get the door for you. Snow falls heavily just beyond the building’s broad, metal awning, catching the yellow streetlights as it swirls in the wind. The streets will be buried again by morning.

“Is that where we’re going, then?” Klein asks, once you’re both situated in the car. “Your sister’s flat?”

“Yes, please.”

He nods and shifts gears.

The drive across town is undertaken in relative silence. You read through the backlog of messages on your scroll, then shift over to the news when you’ve cleared your inbox.

“Almost there,” Klein says from the front, as you approach the cluster of sleek, glass and metal buildings in the heart of downtown. The snow is falling thick and fast, and traffic is snarled as you drive further in.

You watch intrepid pedestrians brave the elements out your passenger window, heads bent against the wind. “Why does she live down here? It’s so crowded.”

“I think she rather likes being in the thick of things.”

“It certainly is thick here.”

Klein swerves to avoid a reckless driver cutting across the lanes, and curses under his breath. “Case and point.”

“You don’t live with her?”

“At times I do stay in the extra bedroom, but she likes to have her space, and I’ve found I rather like to have mine, as well.”

“After years in that frigid mausoleum my father calls a home, I can only imagine.”

“It wasn’t so bad, Ms. Schnee. Your family was always very generous to me.”

“You don’t have to be so diplomatic.”

His eyes twinkle as they catch yours in the rearview mirror. “Don’t I?” The light ahead changes and his gaze flicks away. “Her building is just up here on the left.”

“The one on the corner?”

“That’s the one.”

You purse your lips. “She never was subtle.”

Klein turns down a side street, wheels skidding slightly in the accumulating snow, and pulls into a garage tucked under the building. The town car glides smoothly into one of the VP spots on the first level, right beside the elevator. Just ahead, the concrete ramp dives down sharply, further underground, where the employees for the offices in the building’s lower floors must park.

“Luxurious,” you remark, as you clamber out.

Klein’s nose twitches, lips curling. “A bit.”

The door shuts behind you, echoing ominously off the concrete walls. “Military life has stripped me of some of my refinement, I think.”

Klein waits for the headlights to flash, before turning to lead you through a set of glass doors into a small, softly lit elevator lobby. “On the contrary, Ms. Schnee. You’re as elegant as ever.’ He summons one of the lifts by pressing his scroll against a security pad. “More so now that you’ve grown into yourself.”

Your heart flutters a bit in your chest. “Thank you, Klein.”

His answering smile is warm and nostalgic, like a steaming mug of cider on a cold evening, and you’re suddenly very glad he’s still around to keep an eye on your sister. “No need to thank me. It’s only the truth.”

“Weiss is lucky to have you.”

He chuckles. “Kind of you to say.”

The ride up to Weiss’ flat is again spent in comfortable silence. You notice a bit of silver starting in what little remains of Klein’s hair, but otherwise you keep up your pretense of being quietly preoccupied with your thoughts.

The lift dings at the 30th floor and he steps out to hold the door for you. “Here we are, then.”

Your boots scuff quietly against the marble floor as you emerge into a brightly lit corridor. The whole building reeks of modernist luxury, but the penthouse floor most of all. Long, black planter boxes, filled with striped bromeliads and blooming heliconia plants flank the elevator. Potted palms, taller than either of you, grow in each of the four corners. The walls, a stark white, are finished with high-gloss Venetian plaster and decorated, at regular intervals, with gold-flecked, handblown glass light fixtures.

Your ivory bangs slide across your forehead as you tilt your head back to view the domed, glass roof overhead. “It’s more modern than I expected.”

“She wanted something a little...different,” Klein says, delicately, and you immediately take him to mean ‘different than your childhood home’.

“Fair enough.”

“I’m sure life in the military is also rather different?”

“Hm. Not as different as you’d think.”

Klein offers you a sad little smile, which you can’t quite return. “Yes, well…”

He looks off down the hall, turns, intending to lead you onward, then stops abruptly and frowns. You follow his line of sight, searching for the object of his vexation. It doesn’t take you long. The corridor is short, but wide, accommodating just three sets of double doors, one for each wall. It becomes obvious, almost immediately, that the door opposite you has sustained some kind of damage.

“What happened to those doors?”

Klein blanches. “I don’t know.”

“What’s wrong?”

“That’s her door.”

He takes off down the hallway at a surprisingly quick pace for his short stature, and you have to jog a few steps to catch up. His polished shoes skid to a stop at the end of the corridor, shoulders hunched, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“Dust’s sake, the lock’s been punched clean out!”

Your eyes widen as his narrow. “Those are bullet holes.”

Klein goes white as a sheet and reels backward, cursing under his breath. “It looks like the whole thing’s been ripped out and jammed back into the frame.”

“I don’t like the look of this. Stand back.” You draw your saber, pulse pounding.

If something happened to Weiss…

“Wait.” Klein holds up a hand. “I heard something.”

“Inside?”

“Yes.” He bends down until his ear is level with the door. “Voices.”

“Weiss’ voice?”

He listens for a couple seconds, then catches your gaze and shakes his head. “It’s hard to make out. I don’t know.”

“Alright, enough of this. I’m going in.”

Klein hops back as you prop your boot against the damaged door and shove. As predicted, the door is not attached to its hinges. The whole thing groans, then lurches inward and begins to fall. The interior of Weiss’ apartment is revealed to you one inch at a time, high, white ceilings, a wood-paneled wall, flat-faced wooden cabinets, a black tile kitchen backsplash, the flared, stainless-steel hood of a wall-mounted stove vent, and then...something you can’t quite make sense of.

“Oh,” Klein murmurs.

It doesn’t register with you, at first, that you’re looking at two people you know, but the details quickly rush in to fill the gaps in your comprehension. Ruby Rose’s hair is longer, but still red-tipped, and your sister’s swirling, white ponytail is unmistakable between Ruby’s spread legs. They’re both dressed in downy white bathrobes -your sister’s no doubt- and nothing else. Weiss’ pale fingers grip her partner’s thighs, holding them steady around her narrow shoulders, while Ruby writhes and shakes on the kitchen countertop, eyes closed, back arched, hands braced against the black granite. You have barely a second to take it all in before the door lands with a jarring crash against the marble floor.

“Wah!”

The girls spring apart. Ruby scrambles backwards across the island countertop, nearly tumbling over the other side. Weiss jerks up and flattens herself against the wall of floor-to-ceiling cabinets behind her. Her mouth and nose are glossed with an unmistakable sheen, and it’s only then that the pieces all click into place for you.

You’ve never been so dumbfounded in your entire life.

“W-winter?” Your sister’s glazed eyes widen with horror. “Winter!”

Ruby’s head swivels between her partner and the doorway so fast it would be humorous, except you can hardly spare her a thought, or a glance. She clambers down off the counter gracelessly, holding the front of her robe closed. You watch, numbly, as she pads to Weiss’ side, and whispers something in her ear.

Weiss pales, frantic eyes turning to Ruby. “No wait!” She clutches Ruby’s sleeve. “Don’t go!”

Ruby glances in your direction and smiles weakly. “I think I should give you guys a minute to talk.”

“Ruby…”

“It’s okay. I’m just gonna get my clothes. I’ll be back in a bit.”

She kisses Weiss deftly on the cheek and slips away down the hall. In her wake, Weiss seems frozen, folding in on herself, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her panicked gaze remains fixed on the counter in front of her. You glance sideways, expecting to see Klein in a similar state, except he’s not there. You step back and look around the corridor, finding him down near the elevators.

“Klein?”

He stiffens and turns to peer back at you. His countenance is as proper as ever, no sign whatsoever that he’s surprised by what he’s just witnessed.

“I’ll stay with Ms. Rose,” he calls, evenly. “I’ll keep an eye on her for the time being.”

You blink for moment, until you remember yourself, then nod your thanks. Your boots crunch on splinters and marble chips as you press forward into your sister’s flat. Weiss is standing where you left her, nearly catatonic. You step closer, heels clicking against the floor, until you can see her fingers shaking, curled into the white terry cloth like a lifeline. In an instant, it overwhelms you, how frightened she must be.

“Go get cleaned up,” you say.

Your voice sounds cold. Weiss’ head snaps up, pale blue eyes finding yours. Her cheeks flush, suddenly, and she spins on her heel, fleeing back down the hall after Ruby.

You make your way into the living room and stand tall in front her panoramic windows, peering out into the coming dusk at the spires of Atlas. The mist is thick around the rooftops. Snow falls steadily, picking up speed as the storm approaches. At no point in the last decade have you felt so completely out of your depth. You hands begin to sweat in your gloves, and you tug restlessly at the cloth fingertips as you gaze out at the pale blue sigil of the Schnee Dust Company. An old weight returns to your shoulders.

Perhaps there is no preparing for something like this.

It’s not a comforting thought.

 

 

iii.

Sometimes you realize, with stunning clarity, that you and Weiss are not as different as you seem.

In true Schnee style, your sister’s fear has morphed into anger by the time she returns. She marches out to meet you dressed for war in a crisp, royal blue, Mistrali-cuffed shirt and a pencil skirt the color of cigarette ash. Her imperiously tall heels click against the floor in a furious staccato as she stomps into the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of wine from her industrial refrigerator. Ruby is gone with Klein, and Weiss’ door has been replaced in its cracked frame, and now it’s just the two of you, alone in her cavernous penthouse.

You hear the stems of two wine glasses clicking together, then the tell tale clack of Weiss’ heels clickling over to you. She sets the glasses on her coffee table and pours a generous portion of chilled grüner into each.

She offers one to you and you take it without question. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Weiss drains her own glass in three impressive gulps, and immediately goes to refill it.

“Slow down.”

She flinches, and, though she refuses to spare you a glance, drinks more slowly from her second. Her pale face is clean and scrubbed. Her ivory hair has been redone, and her makeup has been reapplied. A synthetic, rose-tinted gloss paints her lips now, licked away somewhat in the corners, and imprinted on the rim of her crystal glass. It takes deliberate effort on your part not to recall the incriminating sheen on her mouth, nose, and chin, shining under the bright kitchen lights just a few minutes earlier.

You turn back to the windows and take a slow sip of your wine. “This is good.”

Your sister’s eyes narrow imperceptibly, shimmering like the cerulean depths of a clear mountain lake in the fading light. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Since when do you have such refined taste in wine?”

“Father dragged me along to many business dinners after you left.”

You purse your lips. Her tight expression betrays little of her precise feelings, the product of years of careful training, but her sharp, wavering tone gives her away. She was never quite so good as you at concealing her emotions. Father would have rather had you for the heir, and everyone, including Whitley, knows it.

“So…” You trail off, unsure how to proceed.

Weiss huffs and rolls her eyes, effortlessly shattering her stoic facade. “Just get it out, Winter. I’m not made of glass.”

You frown and think back to the twirling little girl in a white chiffon dress, silver snowflakes in her hair, peppermint candies in her fists. That girl left with you for the military. The woman in front of you now is a warrior, pockmarked and scarred, hardened by the battlefield.

You draw yourself up to your full height and take another sip of wine. “Are you gay?”

The most obvious question. One Weiss should’ve been expecting. She stiffens regardless, lashes fluttering.

“No!” Her burning eyes turn to you. “Of course not!”

Your lips twitch. “I get the feeling you’re not being entirely honest with me.”

Weiss deflates, shoulders hunching forward. “I… I’m not sure. Maybe.”

“You’ve dated men before.”

Weiss swirls her wine rather glumly for a moment, then takes a large gulp, and sets the glass aside. She doesn’t dignify your comment with a response.

“Are you dating your partner?”

“We haven’t discussed it.” She looks away. “Not yet, anyway.”

“But you’re sleeping with her.”

“Not really, I-” Weiss sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Just since this morning, technically.”

“Technically?”

“I’d rather not go into it.”

“Alright. What happened to your door?”

“Ruby happened.”

Your brows shoot up into your hairline. “Ruby did that? But why? Your door is completely smashed out of its frame, and it’s full of bullet holes!”

Weiss tilts her head back and stares up at the ceiling. “I know.”

“What the hell happened?”

“It’s not important. Look, can we please just talk about the giant nevermore in the room and get it over with?” Weiss turns her piercing gaze on you. “I’d like to get back to my honeymoon phase if it’s all the same to you.”

“So, you do want to date her.”

Weiss glares, aura flaring. “Yes, okay?! I want to date her!”

Your skin prickles, and you experience the uncommon impulse to step back. “Okay.”

“Jeez, first Blake, then Ruby, and now you.” Weiss growls ferociously and spins on her heel, stomping over to her giant, sectional couch in a huff. “All I wanted was a little time to myself to figure everything out, but no one seems capable of leaving me the hell alone!” She flops down with tightly crossed arms and a scowl that could melt a glacier. “Did father send you here?”

You meet her gaze steadily. “You weren’t answering any of your calls or messages.”

Weiss scoffs. “Guilty as charged. Is he just so nosy he can’t help himself, or does he still get off so much on controlling our lives?”

You swirl your wine slowly. “He convinced me he was concerned about your health.”

“And you believed him?”

“Not exactly, but...I was worried for my own reasons. You’ve never ignored my messages before.”

Weiss exhales heavily and leans back, all the fight leaving her body. “Which one of my maids is spying on me?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Klein can find out?”

“Is he aware of the situation?”

“Yes.”

“Then he’s no doubt already looking into it.” She covers her eyes. “God, I’ve been so stupid.”

“Stupid?” You fold your arms, wineglass balanced loosely between the fingers of your left hand. “You miscalculated, maybe, but you’re not stupid. Schnees-”

“-Aren’t stupid. I know, I know.”  She lets her hand fall to her side, gaze unfocused. “Does Father know about-” she gestures vaguely. “About this?”

“No. I don’t think he has any idea.”

Weiss doesn’t seem in the least bit mollified. “Well, if he doesn’t now, then he will soon… Damnit!” Her fist slams into the cushion. “All I needed was a little more time! Just a little more time to enjoy this before I had to deal with family politics! Is that really too much ask?!”

A wave of guilt washes over you, and the receding tide leaves behind the dull ache of regret. It wasn’t your sister who miscalculated. It was you.

She scrubs at her face, smearing her mascara. “God, it’s only been ten hours! And now I have to deal with this! _Ten_   _hours_ after I finally got a taste of what I’ve been craving my whole life!”

You grimace, inadvertently picturing what you’d walked in on earlier. “Lesbian sex?”

“For dust’s sake, Winter, no!”

“Well, then what-“

“-Love! I mean love, obviously!”

Your chest tightens, and your gaze wavers. You gulp down the rest of your wine to disguise it, but Weiss doesn’t notice you anyway. She stands abruptly and stalks to back to the windows, standing just an arm’s length away. The city lights illuminate her pained expression in artificial shades of yellow and orange. Her fair eyes appear much darker without the sun to light them, stormy and turbid like yours.

“Have you ever loved anyone?” she asks quietly.

Her question is uncharacteristically earnest, and you distinctly dislike the clenching it provokes in your gut. “Once, but it didn’t end well.”

“What happened?”

“He…” Words fail you for a moment. “He wanted things I couldn’t give him.”

Weiss’ eyes close in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

“...Me too.”

“...I love her.” Her eyes blink open again, this time filled with tears. “And I have no idea what to do with it. This feeling is so utterly foreign to me. All I can think about is how I’ll inevitably mess it up.”

“You won’t mess it up.”

Weiss whirls around, glaring up at you with startling intensity. “Do you think it’s gross? Do you think I’m… Do you think I’m _disgusting_?”

Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. You don’t know what to say. You’re not prepared for this. You haven’t had any time to think it over, to plan your responses, to prepare a speech.

Weiss’s expression tightens like a cord about to snap. “I lied earlier. I think I am gay. I don’t even know how to explain it, I just...feel it.”

Her composure begins to falter, like a brick wall coming apart in chunks and pieces, and your breath catches in your chest. You feel frozen. You feel paralyzed by your own indecision.

“Father will hate it,” she whispers, tears falling. “He’ll hate me. He’ll disown me for good this time, and I…”

The dam in your chest breaks.

You pitch forward, hands shooting out to grab her and pull her into your arms. She resists for a second, maybe out of surprise, but you’ve always been stronger. You were born with a fighter’s body, broad and strong to bear the burdens of your family. You can bear hers now.

“I don’t think it’s gross.” The material of your combat gloves mute her warmth, and you rip them off so you can feel it. “I don’t think you’re gross, Weiss.”

Weiss sucks in a shuddering breath against your shoulder. “I’m...s-sorry I didn’t tell you s-sooner.”

“It’s okay.”

“I-I w-wanted to, but I… I just…”

“It’s okay. You’re telling me now. It’s okay.” Weiss sobs once, gently, and you stroke her hair, so like yours in texture and appearance. “If father disowns you, that’s his choice, but no matter what he decides to do, I’ll be here for you.” Moisture pricks at your eyes, and you blink it back. “I won’t let you face him alone.”

Strong fingers curl into the back of your coat. Tremors run through your sister’s compact frame. You tighten your hold until they still.  

“Thank you,” she whispers.

You press your cheek to the top of her head, and sigh. “Don’t thank me, Weiss. This is something I should’ve done a long time ago.”

“Thank you, anyway,” Weiss murmurs, and holds you for a few minutes longer.

 

 

iv.

With Weiss’ dining room table in pieces, the four of you gather for an impromptu dinner of takeout around the island in your sister’s kitchen. The snow outside has grown thicker, obscuring all but the nearest buildings through Weiss’ tall, panoramic windows. A gas fire burns from the white, malm fireplace in the living room, casting a flickering, orange glow over the dark flat. A pair of hanging, glass fixtures illuminate the countertops in the kitchen like twin spotlights against the night sky. No one seems to mind the gloom. Weiss and Ruby have eaten hundreds, if not thousands of meals by campfire, and you’ve spent too much time dining in spartan, military mess halls to be bothered either way. All but the most necessary lights stay off. It feels ritualistic in way, like some kind of ceremony.

Klein quietly sees to the sterilization of eating surfaces while Ruby and Weiss bicker amicably over place settings. You watch them surreptitiously from your perch in the corner, pretending to flick through messages on your scroll. Despite your earlier reassurances, it’s a lot to take in. Weiss blusters to cover her flushed cheeks, stuttering over her words, stilling to draw a breath when Ruby brushes past her. She’s besotted, and it rattles you a little, if only because you can see yourself in the fluttering of her lashes and the crystalline shimmer of her icy blue eyes. You fell once, too, _hard_ , and you still try not to think about how long it took you to get back up.

Or whether you ever really did.

After Klein has presented Weiss with an expensive bottle of “apology wine” from the premier growing region of Mistral, the four of you sit on bar stools around a softly lit spread of pan seared noodles, ginger stir fry, pork buns, dumplings, and gooey chunks of orange chicken. The other three start dishing up with enthusiasm, but your thoughts are unsettled, circling in your mind like vultures over a carcass. The words of Ruby’s belligerent, drunken uncle ring in your ears, even so many years later.

_Ice Queen._

Somewhere along the line you grew to embody that wretched moniker.

The ding of a notification from your scroll grabs your attention. You shake the echoes away. Work is always a welcome distraction. You join the others in their meal, screen in one hand, chopsticks in the other. Your wine glass finds its way to your lips more often than your food, but Klein continues to top you off without comment, until you’ve been lulled into an uneasy sort of calm by the clicking of chopsticks, scraping of porcelain, and smack of sticky lips. You’re don’t even realize you've been ignoring the other until Ruby finally addresses you directly.

“Sooo, Winter, how’s the army?”

“Pardon?” You look up from the personnel report you’ve been scanning on your scroll, glancing sideways at Weiss, who ignores you in favor of her wine. “Oh, I... Well, the Atlesian Military is, as always, a credit to the people of Atlas. I’m honored to be a part of it.”

“Ah, heh, okay.” Ruby rubs the back of her neck. “That’s good, then. Way to go!”

Weiss rolls her eyes. “Eat your food, nerd. We got extra just for you.”

“Right, sorry.” Her silver gaze shifts uncertainly from you to back to Weiss. “You sure you’re feeling okay?”

“I’m fine,” Weiss growls. “Eat.”

“Okay, sorry.” Ruby picks up her chopsticks again and prods at the indecently large mound of orange chicken on her plate. “It’s just that I’m not used to dinner being so quiet, you know? I mean, at our house someone was always yelling or laughing or telling a crazy story, and Zwei was always whining for food, and sometimes Uncle Qrow would stop by-“

“-Ruby.” Weiss’ eyes flick cautiously in your direction, before darting away again. “I know how your family eats. I’ve been over there before, remember?”

“Ah,” she deflates a little, “right. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, just-“ Weiss waves her hand vaguely, searching for a more delicate way to phrase what you know she would rather spit out bluntly. “You’re babbling because you’re nervous.”

“Oh,” Ruby’s tight expression clears a bit, “you’re right.”

“I usually am.” Weiss sniffs, then reaches out to rest a gentle hand on Ruby’s forearm. “Just relax. My sister only looks tough. She’s actually a big softie.”

You calmly set your scroll aside. “You know, I once disabled an entire platoon of White Fang combatants with my bare hands.”

Ruby blanches. “O-oh, is that so?”

“She’s just teasing,” Weiss snipes, but her confidence falters a bit when you only smirk in response. “Right?”

You shrug. “I’d tell you more about it, but it’s classified.”

“Jeez.” Weiss crosses her arms. “You almost had me going there for a second.”

“Believe what you want, little sister.”

“I’d believe it,” Klein says. “Ms. Schnee is an impressive combatant.”

“You can just call her Winter,” Weiss says, tetchily. “We’ve been over this.”

Klein grimaces. “Yes, M- I mean... Alright.”

“Just let him do as he pleases,” you say, waving your hand. “You’ll break him.”

Weiss wrinkles her nose. “But Ms. Schnee sounds so formal.

“I don’t mind formal.” Your eyes flick back to Klein. “You may address me in however you wish.”

A look of relief crosses his rounded features. “Very well, Ms. Schnee.”

“You know, speaking of impressive combatants,” Ruby looks around with a smile, eyes finally settling on your sister, “Weiss has been pretty badass, herself, lately. She saved my life when we were in the desert. Did she tell you that?”

You shoot a knowing look at Klein, who hides his grin behind his hand. “Funny. She failed to mention it.”

Weiss reddens suddenly and reaches for her glass. “This apology wine is good, Klein. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a lemony sauv blanc, but the flavors are extremely well balanced.”

Ruby snorts, pops a piece of chicken in her mouth, and talks around her food. “You know i’sh true becaush she’sh trying to change the subject.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Weiss grumbles.

Ruby just laughs, reaching for Weiss’ hand. Weiss tries half-heartedly to jerk away from the touch, muttering something snide about “sticky hands”, but Ruby succeeds in lacing their fingers together, and she falls silent, glaring half-heartedly at the countertop. You note the resulting tint in her pale cheeks with interest. Your sister has been tamed. It’s utterly strange to witness.

Strange in a nice way.

“Well, I think I’ll start the dishes,” Klein says, with a stretch.

The rest of you have been more or less finished for a good ten minutes. Only Ruby continues to nibble at her food.

He hops down off his stool and makes his way around the kitchen island, collecting plates, chopsticks, and half-empty take out containers. You’re wondering if your sister’s affection is as explosive as her temper when the sudden buzzing of a scroll against the countertop catches your attention. You turn, expecting it to be yours. Instead, you realize it’s your sister’s, buzzing its way slowly across the dark granite.

Weiss pales for an instant, and you know exactly where her mind has gone, but when she turns it over her face relaxes. “Oh. It’s Blake.” She glances up. “I should take this. I won’t be long.”

Ruby grins. “Tell her I said ‘hey’.”

Weiss rolls her eyes. “Yeah, sure. After I’m done chewing all four of her ears off I’ll definitely say ‘hey’.”

“Thanks.” Ruby brings their joint hands up to press a quick kiss to Weiss’ knuckles.

“Sticky,” Weiss murmurs, attempting to feign disgust, but the violent flare of color in her pale cheeks is unmistakable.

She catches your eyes for a fleeting moment before slipping from her stool and scampering off down the hallway. In her wake, the steady rush of running water and sharp clinking of porcelain fills the room as Klein loads the dishwasher. Ruby picks at one of the remaining chunks of chicken on her plate, stabbing it through the center with a single chopstick like a crude skewer, then lifting it to her mouth.

You reach for the bottle of wine on the counter and pour the remains of it into your glass. “Well, Ruby. Here we are.”

A sudden apprehension fills her expression. “Heh, yeah. Look at that.”

“Tell me, why did you destroy my sister’s front door?”

Ruby laughs nervously and scratches the back of her neck. “I um...needed to get in, and she wouldn’t let me in.”

You straighten up, brows furrowing. “Why was such a thing _necessary_?”

“Heh. Well, it’s a long story.” She glances off to the side, biting her lip. “I had some things I needed to say.”

“Hm.” You purse your lips. “And the table?”

“Um. Weiss sort of...blasted me through it?”

Your eyes widen. “That’s alarming.”

“Yeah, well, I kinda deserved it. For being an idiot.” She smiles, meeting your eyes sheepishly. “But…I won’t hurt her, you know. In case you wanted me to give me The Speech. I’d rather be blasted through ten more tables than hurt Weiss.”

“I see.” You look toward the living room windows, tall, dark, and imposing. “Join me on the patio for a moment?”

Ruby pales. “Uh, sure?”

“Bring a coat.” You stand, stool scraping against the floor. “We’ll be outside, Klein, if you need anything.”

“Alright, Ms. Schnee.”

“Come, Ruby.” You retrieve your heavy, white peacoat from the back of the coach and shrug into it with professional ease.

Behind you, looking for all the world like a scolded dog, Ruby slips into her red parka and follows you through the glass doors out into the storm. The patio is dark and windy. Several inches of fresh snow have accumulated over the icy layer of old slush, and your boots crunch as you make your way to the railing, peering steadily through the blizzard at the faint glow of sapphire from the SDC spire. The muffled silence that hangs over the city is deafening.

“My sister loves you.”

Ruby’s boots crunch in the snow as she comes to stand beside you. She is several inches shorter than yourself, but still a good deal taller than Weiss. Her limbs are a bit gangly, and her face has retained some of its childhood roundness, though she’ll lose it all in a year or two. She sucks in a sharp breath and lets it out through shivering lips. Her expression is stoic and calm, like a warrior’s. This, you realize, is the hunter.

“I know,” she says. Her tone is pinched in the arctic air. “She doesn’t need to say it. She’s been loving me for years.”

You nod. That is her way. Grudging adoration. Quiet devotion. Blushes hidden behind sharp words and venom. She always lacked the frigid control she admired in you, and has, instead, adopted her temper for a shield. You’re glad to see she’s learned when to let it down.

“And you love her?”

“I do.” Ruby lifts her chin.

The corner of your mouth quirks. “[Lucky you](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qGt5pvAiPq4).”

“Yeah.” Ruby smiles, face turned up into the wind. “Lucky me.”

You sigh, gloved fingers curling around the frozen railing. “Ruby, I like you. Even in the short amount of time we’ve spent together, I can see you’re good for my sister, and I want your relationship to succeed, but I have to warn you.” You turn and catch her silver gaze, holding it steadily with your own. “Loving Weiss will be very, very difficult.”

Ruby peers back at you steadily for a long moment. “She hated my guts the day we met. Has she ever told you that?”

You smirk. “No, but it doesn’t surprise me.”

“It was months before she would even call me a friend. She was furious when Ozpin picked me to lead the team, and now…” Her gaze wanders away.

“Ruby.” Silver eyes snap back to yours with unnerving clarity. “My father will come after you. He’ll come after your family. He’ll come after your friends. He’ll come after everything you love for _daring_ to ‘corrupt’ his daughter and potential heir, and I know you love her, but I don’t know if you’re ready for that fight. It won’t be as easy, or as simple as killing Grimm. There’s no telling what kind of damage he’ll do, and if Weiss holds back, it’s because she’s terrified. She knows what he’s capable of.”

Ruby’s expression darkens, long hair billowing in the wind. “He can throw whatever he wants at me. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You say that now.”

“I’m a _huntress_.” Ruby’s fingers curl into fists at her side. “I fight for what I believe in. I love your sister, and I believe in her. As long as she’ll have me, I won’t give up.”

A strange fluttering settles in your chest, and you turn away, stricken by a wave of emotions you can’t untangle. Ruby’s devotion makes you ache, like nerves throbbing in sympathy with the pain of another. This conversation has uncovered old wounds.

Ruby sighs and turns, blinking through the snow that has begun to accumulate in her hair and her fur-lined hood. “I’ll protect her.”

“You can’t protect her from everything.”

“I know, but I’ll try.”

The door behind you swings open, and your sister’s voice rings out in the snow. “What the hell are you doing out here, dolt?! It’s freezing!”

You turn to look over your shoulder just as Weiss’ piercing gaze falls to you. “Sorry, we were just admiring the view.”

“Oh, Winter! I didn’t see you there. You kind of blend in with all the…” She gestures loosely at your white jacket.

“Of course. Understandable.”

“Well, come inside.” Weiss turns on her heel, stalking back into the flat. “Klein is making hot cocoa!”

Ruby looks to you for permission, and you grant it with a nod. “We’re finished. I just thought you should know what to expect.”

Ruby smiles. “Thank you for telling me.”

“You won’t have to fight him alone. I’ll be here.”

She nods, eyes skating along the ground as she gnaws her lip. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She starts toward the door, then looks back. “You coming?”

“I think I’ll enjoy the view a moment longer.”

“Okay,” Ruby’s smile is warm, “just remember, there’s a cup of delicious hot chocolate waiting for you inside.”

“I’ll be in soon.”

She nods, and pulls the door shut behind her.

You pull your scroll out of your pocket and dial quickly. The device rings as you put it to your ear.

_“Winter?”_

“Hello, Father.”

_“What is it? Have you seen your sister?”_

“Yes, I met with her earlier.”

_“And? How is she? Is she alright?”_

A tiny smile turns your lips and you lift your face to the sky, letting cold flakes gather like dust on your skin. “Yes. I think she’s going to be fine.”

-

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading! Don't forget to leave a comment and tell me what you think! Comments strengthen my walls and keep the Grimm out of my cities!
> 
> Wanna scream about White Rose junk with me? Come chill with me in my trashcan on tumblr @aeschylusrex


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